I've mention that grief has been lurking around every corner lately. Not super intense, I am just very aware of it and it has made my heart heavy. I think the realization that I am coming up on two years in November is suddenly hitting me.
Just like any other day on this widowed journey, it feels like yesterday and forever ago all at once. I start to hurt when it feels like Jeremy slips through my fingertips each passing day, further away from me. Then I look around at my life and realize how vastly different it looks now than when he died, and how different it would look now if he were still here. That makes him feel far away too.
Just when it feels like forever, or when Jeremy feels far away, I remember all the day-to-day proof that he was just here:
Jeremy's password I still have to put into my phone to update all my apps
The fact that I still have and use his iPhone.
The black shirt in Faith's drawer that she loves to wear cause Daddy picked it out for her. It still fits.
The death certificate I just got back in the mail from the alarm system I cancelled.
A worship set he scribbled down on a piece of paper.
The smell of him that overwhelmed me when I went through his stuff in the basement this week.
The Lady Antebellum CD that he picked out days before he died that was sitting on my desk.
The video game of his that our nephew asked to play when he came to visit.
The pamphlet for the 2nd annual Jeremy King Memorial Pheasant Hunt that will happen at the end of the month.
The gestures, expressions, and smiles of our children.
These are all marks of a great man. Not just a great man, my great man. And not just a distant man who lived long ago, but a guy who was JUST HERE. The marks he left in this world are still visible, still rippling through my life and through the lives of those he touched. The big things are there, no doubt, but what amazes me is all those little things. The details of simple day-to-day life don't just go away when you do, they carry on. They continue through those you care about, through stories, habits, rituals, memories, and love.
Especially love.
Even though it can be painful, I'm in awe watching the ripple effect that Jeremy's life still makes. Not the deep defined ripples anymore, but they're visible; subtle, smooth, and steady. And I've realized that I myself have become a ripple in Jeremy's life and I carry the effect of it everywhere I go, forever.
Beautifully written. Your words resonate with me. Thank you.
ReplyDelete"it feels like yesterday and forever ago all at once"
ReplyDeleteSo very true. I look around and he is everywhere and no where at the same time. How can I leave this home but how can I continue to stay? The little tiny things that are so precious would seem trivial and meaningless to anyone watching . His old worn out ripped LLBean coat hanging in the hallway on the same hook, tissues and cough drops in the pocket, hasn't been moved since the day he died. I touch it and smell it and can't imagine ever moving it.
Your writing is wonderful and honest.
That is so beautiful. We have been forever changed by sharing our lives with our husband or wife. We are not the same person we would have been had we not met them. They live on through us and our children.
ReplyDeleteI wanted to send you a huge thank you for having the courage and strength to write about your loss and life after loss. My husband was killed on the 1st and left behind a 5 year old, 3 year old, and one on the way. Someone shared this site with me and I'm so glad they did (and also that I took the step to visit the site). I look forward to reading your weekly posts. I feel as though I can relate and connect with you seeing as your story has similarities with mine. May God bless you for your strength and all the lives you touch and help. Thank you <3
ReplyDelete